


Safe As Houses

by montmorency



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), Tommy Ratliff (Musician)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-14
Updated: 2013-03-14
Packaged: 2017-12-05 08:08:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,768
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/720786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/montmorency/pseuds/montmorency
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tommy is a little fox. Adam is a big bad wolf.</p><p>Thank you so much to my pre-reader and enabler, fairfax_verde! <333</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Tommy is a little fox. He lives in the forest. 

All alone.

Because someone killed his whole family – his mom and his dad and his sister.

Tommy barely escaped with his life, and now he’s alone. Foxes don’t form packs. They hunt alone. They live with a mate or a small family at most. Tommy’s is gone now, forever.

Well.

Things could be worse. He spends his days prowling for food, small ground creatures like field mice – hey, he’s gotta eat something. He keeps under cover so that he doesn’t become dinner for some larger predator, like the owls and eagles and mountain lions.

He is careful. He doesn’t make friends. Who would be his friend anyway? A bear? With such large, sharp claws and, frankly, bad table manners? Unlikely. A lynx? Newsflash, Tommy belongs to the canine family and they do not like felines. Surely he can’t be the only fox in the forest but he never smells or hears other foxes.

The seasons have passed more than once since he lost his family. He can’t count, not really. He’s a fox, after all. But he has a feeling it’s been awhile. Snow has fallen and melted, fallen and melted, fallen and melted since that day. 

Some nights in the forest are extra scary. Wolves come into his territory, and when they howl on moon-drenched nights, he finds a little burrow and digs in and cowers long after the eerie sounds fade.

Tommy mostly knows fox things: food, cold, wet, sun, wind, bark, howl, twig, tree, bush, rabbit, bear, vole, water, insect, stream, leaf, dirt, fern, meadow, and wolf. He knows about things that no creature should have to know: hunter and gun, steel trap, pain and blood.

He knows other things, but he doesn’t know how he knows them. Things like music, human, dance, love.

On strange nights, when the wind roars through the treetops like a banshee, he sees lights in the distance and hears far-off sounds of devilish revelry of an entirely different sort from the scary wolves. On such nights, Tommy’s curiosity gets the better of his fear and he creeps through the underbrush, a league or more, until colored lights flicker between the trunks of the pine trees, like the lights that dance in the sky on cold nights, but different. These lights are low to the ground, flashing and flaming. He creeps oh-so-slowly through the thick underbrush that smells of pine sap and honey, getting closer and closer to those enticing lights. 

Next he hears the music. Even if he doesn’t know how he knows about music, he can tell that it affects him deeply. This music has deep, mesmerizing noises that thrum through the forest floor. Peeking between tree trunks, he sees humans dressed up in wild costumes, not at all like the hunters or the hikers he sees at other times. These people are dancing and singing, sometimes together, sometimes as individuals, all in thrall to the pounding beat and swirling melody.

It looks like so much fun. Tommy wishes he could join them but he knows better. For one thing, tiny as he is, they’d probably trample him underfoot without even realizing it! For another, well – who knows what they eat. Much drinking takes place but he doesn’t see any food. He contents himself with hunkering down in a bed of pine needles, resting his head on his forepaws, and watching carefully from his hidden place. 

The revels go on for hours. 

Tommy realizes that one of the revelers is their leader. He’s tall, dark, mesmerizing. His hair is the color of midnight with iridescent highlights like the wing of a dragonfly, and his eyes flash in the light of bonfires. He wears a top hat and a black vest and leather pants and bare feet. His bare arms are covered in silvery markings that gleam in the moonlight. He laughs and smiles, but it’s clear the other humans defer to him. Tommy decides this man is their Alpha. He wishes he had an Alpha. He wishes he had a pack, even. He’d hang out with the wolves if he thought they wouldn’t tear him to shreds. He’s lonely. It’s been so long. He misses his family every day, every night.

But he can’t come forward and reveal himself to these people. It’s too dangerous to take such a chance. It’s his fate to be alone, to watch from the sidelines. At least this show is very entertaining.

When the revelers start to lose energy and fall asleep on soft blankets laid on the floor of the clearing, or to drift away through the trees, Tommy also slinks off and finds a burrow to sleep in, dreaming his little fox dreams of music and family and belonging.

The party goes on other nights as well. Tommy comes as often as he dares in order to watch from his vantage point. The tall Alpha is fascinating. One night he and a woman with hair the color of a summer day’s sky come close to Tommy’s place and they’re talking. Strangely enough, Tommy can understand their words.

“Do you ever wonder if there’s more to life than partying?” asks the woman.

The man cocks his head. “Why would you want anything else? We’re free, we’re happy, we’re a family.”

“Adam,” the woman complains, and now Tommy recognizes that as a name. “We’re pack, but we’re also human. We should do human things. We should strive for something better.”

Adam laughs. He’s probably not mocking her. Probably not. Humans can be hard to read. “What, like living in the city?” He sweeps his be-fringed arm out to encompass the clearing filled with revelers. “Some of us aren’t appreciated by human-only society.”

“It’s only because they don’t understand, you’re not wild or dangerous,” says the woman.

“Oh yes, I am,” Adam says with another mocking laugh. He tilts his head to the moon and howls. He doesn’t sound much like a wolf but clearly that’s what he means to imitate. When the howl fades away and his head tilts down again, he and the woman look at each other and then laugh.

“You need a mate,” says the woman.

Adam laughs even louder. “Cut me some slack, Emmeline, I’m barely twenty-two.”

Emmeline frowns. “Ever since your parents retired and moved to Santorini it’s been hard on the pack.”

“I know,” Adam acknowledges, “but give me some time to get used to being in charge, okay?”

“Only if you promise to think about it.”

Adam kisses her cheek. “Yes, mom.”

She slaps him away playfully. “There’s a disturbance in the forest,” Emmeline says more seriously.

Adam looks interested, focused. “You sense that?”

She nods.

“Bring it up at Council. We should see if anyone else has noticed something or if we need to take some action. ”

She nods again.

The revelers come closer and grab at Adam and the woman, drawing them back into the dance.

From his hiding place, Tommy’s eyes follow Adam wherever he goes.

* * *

One fine sunlit summer day, Tommy chases a butterfly across a meadow awash in wildflowers. Granite peaks stand sentinel over the woods. He hears human voices and folds himself into a tiny thing so the meadow grass reaches over his body and hides him. The people are laughing and talking, walking down a wide path, the kind that Tommy avoids. These people don’t have guns. They’re carrying packs on their backs, following the path that skirts the meadow. Hikers, then. Those inexplicable sorts of people who come out here for no better reason to stare at eagles and sleep inside flimsy shelters that a bear could slice through in a moment. Although they are hikers, not hunters, and have no desire to harm him, he stays hidden all the same. Hidden yet watching in fascination.

A sense of longing prickles at the back of his consciousness. How he would like to have family and friends again, to bark with pleasure and cavort in the bright sun. He remembers the nights of lights and music and revelry and how he wonders if he would be welcome there, if he could find someone to join in play.

The voices fade into the distance as the hikers disappear between tree trunks, following the path made by others of their kind. Tommy waits awhile longer in his hiding place. 

Then he smells something and stops breathing for a heartbeat. 

A wolf. 

In midday? With Tommy exposed in the middle of the meadow? There’s nowhere to run, no cover nearby. He cowers lower, hoping the damp meadow exudes enough smells to overpower his own.

The wolf is stalking. 

Stalking Tommy.

He shivers in the deep meadow, which he knows isn’t enough now to keep him hidden. He doesn’t understand why the wolf doesn’t just get it over with and snatch him from the long grasses, teeth snapping together through his throat.

There’s one chance, however small it is. He makes a run for it.

The line of woods is so far away. He won’t stop, not till he gets there, though his heart is beating hard and his muscles burn from sprinting. Just within the canopy of pine trees, from the corner of his eye, he sees the wolf flash past him. Tommy skids to a stop, nearly running into the creature. 

The wolf is enormous, black and silver and snarling.

Tommy sits quickly, paws forward, head down, submissive, breathing hard, waiting. All he has now is a sliver of hope. His life flashes before his eyes; unexpectedly it includes scenes of humans living in their above-ground burrows.

The wolf prowls back and forth, teeth bared the whole time. Tommy watches through slitted eyes. Any moment he expects to feel those teeth in his flesh. But the wolf seems to want to inspect him thoroughly first. It circles him slowly, threateningly. Also… it sniffs his butt, embarrassingly enough. It slinks around to the front again, its wrinkled snout a rictus of menace, its teeth reeking of death, its stance coiled to strike. 

Tommy mans up. He might as well go out like a brave little fox and not a coward. If there is another life somehow, he hopes it will be with his family. He’s scared, not gonna lie, but he opens his eyes and looks right at the wolf.

The wolf seems perplexed. Its hackles go down, its limbs loosen and it takes a step back. It circles him again, sniffing more vigorously than before. A broad tongue licks down his back, sort of ticklish. The wolf nudges him until he stands again. 

Now comes Tommy’s turn to be perplexed. His dad always told him to look out for wolves and not trust them. This one seems safe, somehow. He’s never been this close to a wolf before, yet in spite of every childhood story he’s heard, it hasn’t eaten him yet. Could it be a possible friend? Tommy is intrigued, although his guard is still up somewhere inside. When the wolf turns and strides off, then looks over its shoulder at Tommy in a clear invitation, Tommy trots after it. Just for a test, at one point he veers down a different path – and sure enough the big wolf pursues and darts in front of him and puts a gigantic paw on his back, pushing him to the ground with undeniable strength. Tommy looks up; the wolf is watching him sternly. When the paw lifts, Tommy trots obediently after the wolf again. Might as well see what’s going to happen.

They travel for a long while, through thick stands of sequoia, over brooks that sing with frogs and fish, under fallen logs, past rocky outcroppings. They meet a solitary cougar along the way. The cougar steps aside and lets them pass. It’s large, and it hisses, but the wolf snarls back, so they slip by without incident.

At last the trees thin out, a vista opens wide, and there is one of those things that people live in, a rustic above-ground burrow. A house, he remembers. This one is made of rough-hewn logs, painted in mysterious symbols. It looks friendly, sitting there in the sun with a view of distant, snowy peaks. 

“Come on!” says a voice.

 _What’s that?_ Alarmed, Tommy sinks low to the ground. 

The wolf is no longer in front of him; instead, looking back over its shoulder, is a man. Actually it’s Adam, smiling at him and beckoning to him to follow still.

Tommy’s seen naked humans before, like the hikers that bathe in cold mountain streams. He finds naked people kind of ridiculous, vulnerable, with all their bits hanging out. He could tear into that smooth flesh. He won’t, of course. Clearly Adam and the wolf are one and the same, so he is no doubt capable of turning back into the fearsome creature. Tommy rises cautiously and follows Adam into the house. All the things in the house tease at his memory. He recognizes them but can’t remember ever being in a house before now. Adam finds clothing and pulls it on. He fills a vessel with water and sets it before Tommy. It’s cool and delicious.

Adam sets about preparing a meal. He talks now and then to Tommy, while Tommy explores the nooks and corners of the house. He is daunted by the stairs that ascend to a loft; he’ll leave that for later.

“If you’re hungry, you probably should go find yourself a mouse,” Adam says, filling a pan with water. “Unless you want pasta and salad.”

Water heated by the fire on the stove doesn’t smell appealing. Adam had left the door open to the outdoors but Tommy’s not hungry right now. He’ll wait until the evening, when creatures come out from their burrows.

“I haven’t smelled any foxes in a long while in the forest,” Adam continues. He walks over to a soft-looking bed thing – okay, a sofa, the names of things keep coming back to Tommy as though he had learned them once – and sits. He pats the cushion, inviting Tommy to jump up. Which he does. He sits on his haunches near to Adam, looking up. Adam’s hand reaches out and Tommy flinches.

“Sorry, little guy, I didn’t mean to startle you.”

As if. Tommy’s not scared, no way. He sits still and allows Adam to touch his ears and stroke his back. 

“Are there more of you out there, I wonder,” Adam says. 

When Adam speaks, it’s like he’s talking to himself mostly. Tommy senses that Adam doesn’t expect Tommy to understand, or respond.

“There’s something about you,” Adam keeps going, petting Tommy’s head and running a finger under his chin. “I can’t decide what it is.”

Tommy likes Adam. A lot. This might be a friend! Tommy barks once. Adam looks taken aback, then laughs. 

“Water’s boiling,” Adam says, getting up. 

Tommy leaps from the sofa and walks around the periphery of the big room. Only one room in this house has a door. Inside the room is a cool smooth vessel with water in it. Tommy puts his paws on the edge and looks down into the water. He should know what this thing is. It nudges at the back of his memory. Suddenly he needs to pee so he heads out the front door and finds a spot not too near the cabin. When he’s done, he figures he could leave Adam behind, but no. Possible friend, remember?

Tommy trots jauntily back to the house; Adam looks down at him with a smile from where he’s doing something by the stove fire. There’s a new smell but it’s no more appetizing than boiling water. “You’re staying? Good. My house is safe at night. You don’t need to worry about anything.”

Tommy has all sorts of questions. Where is everyone else? Does Adam live alone out here? How often does he become a wolf? Is it something that just happens, or can Adam control it? Does Adam have a family? Where are they? Is it fun to be human? Or more fun to be a wolf? Is a wolf afraid of anything else? Like a bear, perhaps? Unfortunately Tommy has no idea how to make himself understood to Adam.

Adam eats his dinner on the sofa, maybe to be friendly to Tommy, since there is a table thing nearby, with chairs. Tommy sits by him on the sofa for awhile, watching Adam eat. Tommy runs outside as the sun is setting. He feasts on several grasshoppers and then returns to the house and drinks deeply from the water bowl. In the morning he’ll find a mouse or something. He’s unsure of the etiquette of bringing a fresh kill indoors to share with Adam. 

As the world goes dark outside, Adam shuts the door and bolts it. “If you need to go out during the night,” he says to Tommy, “there’s a secret little door.” He points to a small square cutout at the bottom of the big door. He gives it a little kick and it swings back and forth, letting in the outdoor odors. “No animals come in because they smell the wolf. But you’re not afraid of me, are you?”

Tommy sniffs around the door and pushes at the swinging piece. He remembers something about _cat door_ which is insulting, but hey, when you gotta go, you gotta go. To let Adam know he is okay with it, he slinks through the door, lets it swing shut, sniffs at the night air, and then turns around and goes back inside.

“Clever boy,” says Adam.

They spend the evening listening to music and playing fetch-the-ball. It’s a fun game! The ball rolls everywhere on the wooden planks of the floor, behind furniture, under curtains… and it’s Tommy’s job to find it and bring it back to Adam where he sits cross-legged on the floor. He proves his mettle. Adam is pleased. That makes Tommy proud. He rests his front paws on Adam’s thigh so that Adam can fondle his soft ears.

“For some reason,” Adam says musingly. He looks closely at the little fox. “I feel like your name is… Tommy?”

Tommy is flabbergasted. He sits up very straight and barks twice excitedly. How did Adam know? Then again, Adam is a wolf Alpha. He’s special.

“Tommy,” Adam repeats. “It suits you.”

Tommy hasn’t heard his own name in so long that – well, the thought just slips away.

Adam gets tired eventually. Even Tommy is yawning and pawing at his eyes, which refuse to stay open. Time to brave the stairs; either that or spend the night alone on the sofa. The stairs are made of wood planks, with openings everywhere so that Tommy has to be careful not to fall through somehow. He puts his front paws on the first step and then leaps until all of him is on the step. Not so bad. He tries another. And another. It gets easier except the higher he gets, the more he’s afraid of the height. 

“Come on,” says Adam, sitting on the top step, watching him. “You can do it.”

The encouragement is all he needs to make it to the top. Getting down later will be a new trick to learn; all in good time. Meanwhile he gets a pat on the head from Adam for being so brave. He sits there at the top of the stairs – next to Adam – licks his chops and inspects the view.

The loft is beautiful, with skylights and a huge bed with the softest covers. With no human-made lights here, the stars can be seen. It’s like being outdoors but not. No need to hide in a burrow for the night. Adam sheds most of his clothing and gets under the soft covers. After a moment of indecision, Tommy leaps onto the bed and takes a spot near where Adam’s feet are buried. Tommy sinks into the soft mountain of white until it is cozy all around except for his head and back.

“Good night, you foxy little thing,” Adam says drowsily.

A long while later, Tommy wakes up, suddenly alert, in the velvety black of night. An owl hoots distantly. Adam’s breathing is deep and regular. Looking up, Tommy sees that the waxing moon has rolled around to peek into the high windows. A branch taps on the roof. That could be scary, except the house tells him that he’s safe. It’s like a soft throb in the air held within it. 

_safe safe safe_

He falls asleep again, chin on paws.

In the morning, Adam has to encourage Tommy to try descending the stairs on his own. It’s scarier than going up, but Tommy is a smart little fox and he figures it out. Pretty soon it becomes second nature. Pfft. Nothing easier.

He stays near the house day after day. He and Adam grow familiar with each other’s habits and quirks. Adam sings all the time, for one thing. His voice is beautiful to Tommy, velvety and tuneful. Tommy learns he’s not supposed to bring his own meals inside the house. He’s welcome to share Adam’s human food, but it’s gross so he declines.

Sometimes Adam turns into the wolf and they run together through the forest. At these times, Adam will snare a rabbit and share it with Tommy. They drink from snow-cold creeks that come down from the mountain peaks. They roll in meadow grass together, nipping and snarling and just generally having a great time.

Tommy finds he likes Adam in both human and wolf guises. The two are very different. The wolf always carries a hint of danger, a whiff of the feral, a smidgen of cunning and wile. The human is sweet and soft-hearted and filled with laughter.

Now and then, Tommy misses the snuggly safety of a burrow; sometimes he finds a dark corner under a drape for a nap. Mostly he’s happy to be in and around the cabin with Adam, because, well... _Adam_. Sometimes Adam even makes meals that Tommy likes. Sometimes, when Adam sings, Tommy joins in by howling softly. He knows he’s not good like Adam is, but Adam seems to find it amusing and enjoyable.

Tommy finds great places to hide and nap, like Adam’s dirty clothes pile, or the closet with all the freshly dried towels. He likes that especially when Adam has removed them from the big box that rattles and makes noise and makes things warm.

At first he was afraid of the waterfall room, but he comes to realize it’s safe because Adam is there. Adam turns on the waterfall and uses things that smell nice. Tommy wishes he was brave enough to stand under the waterfall, but in truth he’s not fond of rushing water. He contents himself with sitting on the soft mat nearby while Adam is singing in the waterfall.


	2. Chapter 2

“It’s Rave Night,” Adam announces one morning. “You can come with if you like. There’s a lot of people; some of them are weres like me but they’ll be humans, don’t worry, nothing to be scared of. It’s really out of this world.”

Tommy cocks his head. More friends! And all of them big galumphing human beings. What if they step on him? What if they don’t like him? What if? What if?

“I promise to take care of you,” Adam says gently. 

Someone comes to the house at sunset to walk to the Rave with them. Her name is Danielle and she is entranced with Tommy. Tommy has no trouble understanding her.

“Ohmigod, he’s so cute!” she squeals. “Are you keeping him?”

As if. Tommy is not a pet, thank you. He stands straighter, putting on his most dignified expression.

“Aren’t you cuuuute?” Danielle croons, leaning down to chuck him under the chin.

Tommy winces inside.

“Can I pick him up?” 

“I’d say that’s his choice,” Adam says. “He’s aware, he’s not just a feral dog or something, girl.”

Danielle’s face changes. “Really?”

Adam nods. “He understands what we are saying, I think.”

Danielle looks at Tommy with a bit more respect after that. Tommy approves.

It’s time to go.

Danielle’s already dressed for the Rave, all feathers and glitter and headband and fringe. Adam is up in the loft, getting ready. When he makes an entrance down the stairs, it’s amazing. He’s wearing the top hat again, plus a long coat with spikes on the shoulders, and about fifty necklaces. His boots have heels that make him even taller. His eyes are painted smoky violet. 

Tommy feels seriously underdressed.

Adam seems to sense Tommy’s frustration. “You don’t need anything else to make you gorgeous, Tommy fox. You’re already there.”

The walk to the place for the Rave is long and meandering although Tommy’s got an animal’s sense of direction and recognition. He could have found it without bothering with the human-made path that Adam and Danielle take. As it is, he walks at Adam’s side, keeping pace with the human’s long strides. As they stride purposefully forward, other fantastically dressed figures emerge from adjoining paths and follow behind Adam until they’re nearly an army. They reach the clearing to find the party has already started – music and torches and writhing bodies.

Adam scoops Tommy into his arms. “You’re kind of small, we don’t want you to get lost here,” he says, ruffling Tommy’s neck fur. 

Tommy has no argument. He likes being close to Adam. A slender man hands a glass of something smoky to Adam and he takes it, cuddling Tommy against his shoulder with his other hand. 

Now that he’s inside the magic circle, so to speak, Tommy sees so many new things that hadn’t been apparent from his previous hiding place. The place is a big circle where brush has been cleared, although the trees are still close enough to form a canopy overhead. In one area, there are objects made by human hands, lying on blankets: macramé, pottery, tie-dye, aromatic candles. These humans are artists. Tommy remembers art, sort of. Adam picks up a ceramic medallion. 

“My sign,” he tells Tommy, “I am the water-bearer. Or right now, the fox-bearer.”

The man who sits by the pottery laughs. He has many pretty scratchings on his skin in dark colors. “Keep the medallion for yourself,” the man tells Adam.

“Thanks, Terrance. Hey, Tommy, I wonder what your sign is?”

Tommy doesn’t know what that means. It tickles at his memory but won’t come into focus.

The Terrance man rises smoothly and reaches a hand out, respectfully, to Tommy. “Who’s this foxy little creature?” 

Tommy leans against Adam while Adam speaks. “I found him in the alpine meadow north of here. Tommy, meet Terrance, my good friend.”

Tommy sniffs carefully at Terrance’s fingers and then permits Terrance to ruffle his neck fur.

“Tommy, is it? You couldn’t think up a more interesting name?”

“I didn’t give him the name,” Adam counters. “It came with him.”

Terrance gives Tommy a more measured look. “Is he aware?”

Or maybe Terrance said _is he a were?_ Tommy’s not perfect at understanding humans.

“He’s pretty special, that much I know,” Adam says fondly. “Hey, how’s the Burning Man ensemble going?”

Terrance’s face lights up. “Oh man, you have got to see this. Talk about inspiration! Brandon is working on the spikes right now, wanna see?”

Adam sets Tommy on the ground, away from the dancers. “Definitely. I’m still working on mine.”

“Better hurry up, it’s barely a month off.”

“I’ll be back,” Adam says to Tommy. “No one will hurt you.”

The humans go off in a different direction, talking. Tommy doesn’t know what’s about so he decides to give it a pass. He puts his paws up on the edge of Terrance’s trunk and looks inside. There’s so much fascinating stuff in here! With a quick hop, Tommy gets inside the trunk and goes pouncing and exploring and rooting around. Some of it as soft as spring rain, or sparkly as morning dew, or rough like tree bark. He tosses a few things out and digs in deeper, finding things that smell interesting and things that smell like fake human stuff. Nothing edible, sadly. He putters around until he’s made a nice little bed for himself. Then he curls up and takes a nap.

* * *

The Rave is still going strong when Tommy’s fox-nap is over. He leaps out of the trunk and finds the old stump of a lightning-felled tree. He jumps onto it and stretches out, enjoying the music and the tribal ritualistic movements of the dancers, while resting his head on his paws, eyes open and watchful. 

Imagine his surprise when a head pops into view – a wolf head! He nearly leaps in fear. Of course, it’s Adam, the beautiful black and silver wolf. He isn’t snarling, like the first time Tommy saw him. He’s practically smiling, if a wolf can be said to smile. There’s sure mischief in his ice-blue eyes.

Tommy pops into standing position, alert. His tail may wag a little, but don’t tell anyone. The wolf puts a paw right on the stump, right in Tommy’s space. Oh it’s _on_. Tommy leaps to the side and runs for the trees, the wolf in hot pursuit.

They race through tree trunks, far far far from the sound of the Rave. Tommy knows that Adam is letting him stay ahead; he doesn’t care, it’s fun. The wind ruffling through his fur feels good, and the burn in his muscles is the right kind. He bursts into a wide clearing lighted by the plangent full moon and it’s here that Adam catches him, sending them tumbling together through the moldering leaves and prickly pine needles.

When they stop rolling, Adam sits up and lifts his head and howls at the full moon. Tommy howls, too. It’s not like a wolf howl, nothing so beautiful and haunting, but he _can_ howl. The sound fades and they look at each other and rub their muzzles together. Adam growls softly and nips the back of Tommy’s neck, grabbing his nape carefully in big wolf teeth and shaking gently. It has a flavor of _mine_. Tommy likes the possessiveness. He belongs to himself, and also to Adam now.

The moonlight mesmerizes Tommy, flowing down from the sky, warming him in its embrace. He rolls on his back. Adam is laughing at him. If a wolf can be said to laugh.

A moonbeam pierces right through Tommy, nailing him to the earth, and then there’s a horridly sharp pain and his little body spasms and convulses. It’s the most excruciating thing he has ever felt. The world goes away. 

Then the world is back. It’s as though knives are piercing him. 

“Everything hurts,” he moans piteously.

Adam hovers over him. Human Adam. Beautiful human Adam. “Baby, are you okay? Where does it hurt?”

“Everywhere,” Tommy gasps, twisting his limbs, trying to make it go away.

He’s human. Naked and vulnerable and human.

Adam pulls one of Tommy’s legs straight. Tommy nearly screams. “Hold on,” Adam says desperately, massaging the calf and thigh muscles. “You haven’t been in your human form for so long, I think that’s causing the pain. It’s like your bones grew too fast.” He keeps up the vigorous massage. “Better?”

Tommy nods tightly, eyes squeezed shut. Adam massages the knotted muscles, one leg and then the other, both arms, Tommy’s neck and shoulders. Finally his body relaxes. He opens his eyes and there is Adam, smiling down at him.

“There you are,” Adam says with a sweet smile. “I was wondering when you’d come out of hiding.”

“It’s so strange.”

“You’ll get used to it.”

“My head hurts. It’s full of thoughts.” He sits up, next to Adam, who is kneeling. He puts his hands on his head and cards through his messy mop of dark-blond hair.

“Memories? Your family?” Adam asks gently.

Tommy nods, pressing down on his skull. “Guns,” he whispers. “Men with guns.” Then, “Cold.”

Adam scoops Tommy into his arms. They’re both naked and the air is quite brisk. 

“Do you think you can change back? We’re pretty far from the party clearing and from my home.”

“I’m not sure,” Tommy whispers. “Maybe in a while.”

Truth is, the dull pain is still radiating through his bones and muscles. He’s kind of afraid of going through that a second time. He has no idea if becoming a fox again will hurt. Meanwhile he’s cataloging all the different sensations. Life as a human being is really different. His sense of hearing has constricted so much that at first he thinks he went deaf. He can’t smell anything except some pine and mold. The world looks very dark to his eyes. He’s cold without any fur, and for the first time feels shame, embarrassment and a strange feeling that he can’t describe but is related to being so close to Adam.

There are trade-offs: he’s less alert because he’s aware few creatures could harm him now. He keeps reminding himself to scope out the environment; he keeps forgetting to do it. He understands how music fits together, and he knows why the aurora happens. He has an amazing sense now of _time_ , of yesterday, today and tomorrow. His instincts have dulled but his intellect has sharpened. He remembers his younger sister, his father, and his mother, in fox and human form both. He remembers that day – but he shoves the thought aside fast. It hurts more than the physical pain.

Being held by Adam is so very different, too. As a fox, he enjoyed cuddling. Now his feelings are terribly confusing. He still seeks the warmth and protection, but there’s something else now. It’s scary and thrilling and just a touch embarrassing.

“Adam.” It’s a wonder to be able to say the name out loud. He likes the taste of it on his tongue. “Adam,” he says again just to say it.

“So what do you think? It’s a long way back for a walk, especially without shoes.”

Tommy shivers. “I’m not sure,” he says miserably.

Adam squeezes him. Adam understands. It nearly undoes Tommy to realize that. “I’ll carry you,” Adam offers.

That would be ridiculous. Tommy snuffles and pushes away. He needs to man up and do this. He’s a fox _and_ a human and he needs to deal with it. If Adam can, he can.

He stands up creakily. Everything still hurts, but it’s a muffled pain now, dull and distant. He flexes his arms and fingers wonderingly.

“It’s so strange,” he tells Adam again. 

It’s a little embarrassing, too, this nudity thing – he wants to curl up and cover himself instead of stand here straight and tall – but Adam seems entirely unconcerned, so there’s that. Another thing to get used to, maybe.

“Feels good, doesn’t it?” Adam rises gracefully. Tommy notices for the first time that the silver tattoos on Adam’s arms are the Zodiac symbols, starting on his left forearm and traveling across his shoulders to the other arm.

Tommy folds his arms across his skinny chest. “I kind of miss the fox body. It had fur. It was a lot warmer.”

Adam chuckles. “You’ll get it back. Clear your mind, Tommy. Let it happen.”

Tommy rolls his shoulders and closes his eyes. Nothing happens. He opens one eye to squint at Adam.

“Don’t sweat it,” Adam says. “Later it’s going to be so easy. Like, you never forget how to ride a bike, right?”

Tommy remembers bikes, he and his sister riding through sunny streets in their neighborhood. How much fun it was growing up in the little house with their parents, driving a few miles to the forest to get their were on, so to speak. 

In the blink of an eye he is low to the forest floor. The smell of pine nearly knocks him sideways. He looks up to see Adam towering over him. There are little twinges in his joints but nothing bad. He barks to let Adam know all is well.

The most amazing thing happens. Adam goes all smudgy and blurry and suddenly the wolf is there in his place. The wolf nuzzles at Tommy; gives him a stern look as though to say _let’s go_ or _follow me_ , so Tommy does. Through the brush and the trees, on quick but quiet feet – to the excitement of the Rave.

“Adam’s back!” someone hollers, and the music fades as Adam, shifting in a single blur yet again, walks naked across the circle, heading straight for the place where Terrance sits.

“Get dressed, buddy,” says Terrance, tossing Adam’s clothing to him. 

Adam catches the bundle and gets dressed. “Terr, do you have something that would fit Tommy?”

Terrance is surprised. He looks at the little fox. “Is he cold?”

Adam shakes his head. “It’s time for Council, and he’ll understand everything better in his human guise.”

Terrance’s eyes go wide, looking at the little fox. “He’s a were _fox_? That’s a real _thing_?”

Adam smiles. “Apparently so. He’s been undercover for awhile in the forest. He really got deep into his foxiness.”

_Foxiness, meh._ Tommy would scoff if he could.

Adam is already on his way back to the middle of the open space, where the revelers have gathered in a large circle, sitting on the ground. Terrance goes rummaging in his carryalls and packs and things that are scattered nearby, erupting with jewelry and pottery and brightly dyed cloth. He finds something. “Here you go, fox.”

With his fox teeth, Tommy drags the black and white fabric behind a large tree trunk. He’s not ready to do this out in the open. Turning human again is easier this time. There is residual pain but it’s more a memory than a reality right now. He inspects the strange garment, holding it this way and that. It’s like a tunic, made of thick black fabric, presumably warm, and it’s covered with occult symbols in pure white, like chalk on a blackboard. When he slips it over his head, it falls nearly to his ankles. The arms of the tunic are so long that his hands are covered. It’s not cold enough to put up the attached hood, but he wishes he had shoes for his freezing toes. 

The Council is well underway – several dozen people shouting vigorously and simultaneously about totally different things – when he steps into the circle. That shuts them up. All eyes are on him. He feels like he’s on display in an artsy shop window. He’s glad that the tunic covers up most of him.

“Hey there,” says Adam, beaming. He’s the only one other than Tommy in a standing position. Adam reaches out an arm; Tommy gratefully goes to him and snuggles against him. “People of the Forest, this is Tommy.”

“Hi, Tommy,” they say in cacophonous quasi-unison.

Tommy blushes. He mouths _sorry about your trunk_ at Terrance, who waves it off with a _pfft_ and a grin.

Adam gives the whole group a brief rendition of how he and Tommy met, and how he discovered that Tommy is a werefox. Then it’s back to the regular agenda. Tommy sinks down to sit at Adam’s feet. He tucks his own cold feet beneath the tunic; it warms him up wonderfully. He listens to the voices as they ebb and flow, discussing issues of musical performances, new members, forest management, and how many new yurts they need.

The meeting is a total free-for-all. Adam’s in charge but he’s not pushy at all. He appears to enjoy the freedom and raucousness of his people. It’s almost too democratic – everyone gets to chime in on every topic if they like. No one waits for anyone else to finish. If a topic gets shouted louder than anything else (usually by rising to a near-shriek), the group will pipe down and listen. One such case is Emmeline of the sky-blue hair, possessed of the lungs of a soprano who could kill in the part of Brunnhilde. 

Adam signals that the subject is important. “Tell everyone what you told me so far, Emmeline.” He waves to her to continue speaking.

“The vibe is wrong in the forest. It’s subtle but I’ve been bothered for weeks now. I waited to speak because I wanted to be sure.”

“I’ve felt something, too,” a man on the other side of the circle volunteers. “North of here?”

Emmeline nods vigorously. “The oldest part of the forest, where the sequoia stand.”

Tommy tugs at the leg of Adam’s jeans. He has to try several times because Adam is absorbed in the conversations that are going on. Emmeline and the man across the circle are going into more details about the feelings they have experienced.

Finally Adam looks down.

“I know what it is,” Tommy says. “I know what’s happening.”


	3. Chapter 3

Tommy’s exhausted, mentally and otherwise, by the time he’s finished telling his story to the Council. As a human, he remembers everything that happened that day, nearly four years back, to his family. This is a werewolf-and-friends council. They’ve never heard of werefoxes and are amazed to learn that Tommy’s whole family was of the fox persuasion. There’s a house in the city – Tommy doesn’t even know what might have happened to it by now – and the family was on a camping trip in the Sierra Nevada. Camping was their favorite family activity.

As hikers, they had started out from their campsite in the deep woods one fine morning. They chanced on something totally unexpected, an illegal logging operation, several clearings with nothing left but dozens of stumps of old-growth redwoods. Unfortunately the loggers were still there and had armed security. Tommy’s dad yelled “Run!” and he and his sister turned into foxes and bolted. For two days he hid from the searching men with the big guns, a bullet wound in one hind leg. Later he gathered courage to seek his family. His parents had not even had time to change into fox form. Their human corpses were buried in a shallow spot. His sister was a dead fox slung on top.

The revelers listen raptly, without interrupting him. At one point, Adam sits down beside Tommy and holds his shaking hand while Tommy talks. After he’s done, Tommy hides his face against Adam’s shoulder.

The Council decides that this operation must still be ongoing, and coming closer to their place. Adam chooses three of the biggest wolves to seek out the danger and stop this desecration of the mountains. He senses Tommy’s weariness and insists they go home. Someone loans Tommy a pair of soft moccasins. Tommy makes it to the cabin in a daze of sadness and weariness.

There’s a big mirror in the cabin. Tommy shuffles to it, as though he wants to avoid it but can’t. A strange version of himself appears, looking nervous. No longer the soft baby face he’d had, this one is leaner, more angular. His eyes are still fox-amber, which looks not quite right on a human. 

Adam appears behind him in the mirror.

“Been awhile?”

Tommy nods. “It’s – I’m different.”

“We all change after a few years.”

“Why are my eyes this color?”

Adam looks closer. “Residual effect. It’ll go away.”

“It’s ugly.”

“No. Not ugly. You’re beautiful, Tommy. Human or fox, beautiful either way.”

Tommy thinks that Adam is the beautiful one. He doesn’t speak that out loud.

“Time for bed,” Adam says, running a hand across the nape of Tommy’s neck, tousling the longish hair gently.

Having turned from fox to human to fox to human already today, Tommy doesn’t want to chance another switch. On the other hand he feels very awkward about sharing a bed with Adam. He won’t fit at the foot of the bed now. And he needs covers because human Tommy does not have a fur coat like fox Tommy does. 

“I’ll sleep on the sofa,” he says softly.

Adam looks hurt, maybe. He nods, though, and ascends the stairs. 

Tommy stretches out on the sofa, then curls up so his calves and feet are well inside the enveloping tunic. He pulls up the hood and shoves his arms into the sleeves so he looks like a monk in a cold climate. The tunic itself is pretty warm. He closes his eyes. He hears Adam coming back down the stairs even though his hearing is nowhere near as sharp in human form. Another moment and a cloud of warmth descends on him – a down comforter. He peeks out of the hood at Adam.

“Thanks.”

Adam is hesitant, like he wants to leave but also doesn’t. Tommy waits, until Adam pulls a stool closer and sits next to the sofa. “May I see your leg?”

Tommy thinks a moment.

“The bullet. You said you were hit.”

Ah. Tommy shakes his left leg out from under the comforter. Adam takes Tommy’s foot in his big warm hands, very gently. He turns the leg slightly and finds the scars that remain, first on one side of the leg and then the other. 

“It went through?”

Tommy nods.

“You healed well.”

“I got lucky,” Tommy says haltingly. “No one else was lucky.”

Adam tucks Tommy’s leg back under the comforter. “I’m so sorry about your mom and dad and sister, Tommy. I can’t even imagine. ”

Tommy swallows hard, not wanting to cry like he did earlier in front of the Council. 

“Don’t be afraid of who – what – you are. I know you were traumatized by what happened and maybe you stayed in fox form to inoculate yourself from the pain. Am I close?”

Tommy nods.

“You’re a human _and_ you’re a fox. You’re allowed to be both, or either. I’m here with you, all the time, okay? We’re going to be okay.” Adam squeezes Tommy’s hand. Tommy squeezes back, hard.

Adam smiles. “Sleep well, little fox.”

* * *

Something awakens Tommy from a deep sleep. For a moment he is afraid and bewildered, not knowing where he is. When he remembers, he relaxes. It’s toasty warm under the comforter. The sounds of the house – a creak here and there, the cold box (that is, the refrigerator) with its motor running – are soothing now rather than frightening. Tommy pushes the comforter aside and swings his legs around and gets up quietly. He crosses the big room to the door to the outside. He looks down. He’s not going to fit through that cat door. For a moment he’s puzzled. Then he recalls the waterfall room and realizes that he doesn’t have to go outside for bodily functions, which is a good thing because, not having a fur coat, it wouldn’t be fun to squat and expose his smooth backside to the cold night air.

It’s a challenge, dealing with this werefox thing. Adam said he’d get used to it, and he will simply have to trust Adam.

When he wakes again, Adam is pottering around the kitchen. Tommy smells coffee! And this time, it smells _good_.

“Is that coffee?” he mumbles, stretching his arms. The comforter slithers off his body and to the floor.

“Wake up, sleepyhead!” Adam calls. “Yes, it’s coffee and I suppose now you’ll like it.”

Tommy sits at the table with Adam. He likes the coffee and the omelets and the pears and the orange juice and the muffins. When he remembers that only yesterday morning he ate an entire vole, skeleton and all, _uncooked_ , he nearly gags.

“Getting used to having a dual life again?” Adam asks kindly.

Tommy nods. Takes another drink of coffee.

“You’re going to find those bad people, aren’t you?” Tommy asks abruptly.

“Yep,” Adam says. “Me and Neil and Suzie and Daryl.”

“I’ll come.”

“No, Tommy, you don’t need to be traumatized again. I picked our best warriors. We’ll take care of it.”

Tommy shakes his head. Adam doesn’t get it. “I know exactly where it is.”

“You remember?”

“I will, when I shift back.”

“They’ve moved on, surely, it’s been a few years.”

“They’ll be near the same place. They had to make a dirt road that trucks could get through. There’s probably a chain of clearings strung together.”

Adam frowns.

“It will save time,” Tommy insists.

“You could get hurt.”

“I need to see _them_ get hurt.” Tommy’s a peaceable little creature, but he feels a need for some type of revenge. As well as, of course, stopping the desecration of the forest.

Tommy needs this. Adam finally gets it. He nods. “But you do everything I say, when I say it. If I say run you run. Right?”

Tommy nods vigorously. He didn’t think Adam was going to let him come along. He’s ready to agree to just about anything.

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

First, though, he has to practice shifting. It’s very disorienting to constantly have one’s clothes fall on the ground and to remember later where he left them. They’re not exactly _his_ clothes, of course. Petite Emmeline loans him jeans and shirts and a jacket, which fit astonishingly well. He also accepts socks but not frilly panties. He prefers going commando to that potential clusterfuck.

In three days, Neil and Suzie and Daryl arrive at the cabin at sunset. Suzie has a katana. Daryl has a crossbow. Neil is armed only with his wits. If Tommy expected them to have guns, well, that wouldn’t make sense, would it? That said, all three are tall and strong. In wolf form they are truly frightening in their intensity. Wolves can’t wield swords anyway, making Tommy wonder why Suzie and Daryl have human weapons. Adam called them warriors; maybe that’s it.

The three will stay the night in Adam’s cabin, the plan being to start at dawn or a bit earlier. They’ll be traveling a long distance.

Adam builds up a fire in the huge fieldstone fireplace. He makes herbal tea and hot chocolate and grilled-cheese sandwiches, and they have a fine time talking about old quests and successes. Tommy sits near the flames, quietly drinking his tea and learning from the stories.

Daryl relates a hilarious anecdote where he thought a zombie had gotten into his yurt. It turned out he had been overindulging in various substances before stumbling onto his cot, and mistook a fellow werewolf for a zombie. Just as well, since the wolf was able to fight off Daryl and knock him out cold so he could sleep it off. 

“How do you think I got a yurt to myself,” Daryl says, looking smug as he gnaws on his sandwich.

The very thought of zombies makes Tommy tremble. He shakes it off like a wet dog. Daryl looks over at him and gives him a friendly wink.

Suzie tells a very frightening tale involving revenants in old Romania. Tommy hopes that one isn’t true. It makes him shiver inside. She tells it well, though. It’s a good kind of shiver, since he’s inside a locked home with friends and a roaring fire.

Neil is into politics, so he talks about some work he has been doing in human guise to preserve natural areas from being developed. He has friends in the big city who are only too happy to stop development.

All three of them are thoughtful around Tommy, as well as fascinated by him, Daryl in particular. He’s a bit rough and tumble yet at the same time appealing, given all the muscles and the stern look in his eye and the no-nonsense manner he has. Tommy finds himself scooting closer and closer to Daryl as the night deepens, until he’s really close. He tells himself it’s the warmth, the safety. 

Across the room, Adam is watching without smiling. 

When it’s time for lights out, Adam produces more blankets and pillows from an apparently endless linen closet, letting Suzie have the sofa, while Neil and Daryl bed down near the glowing embers. They’ve slept on harder surfaces than a thick carpet over a wood floor.

Tommy sneaks upstairs with Adam, unsure. Adam’s not unsure at all. He pushes Tommy under the covers and gets in with him. Tommy’s glad they both wearing tees and sweats. How else could he deal with it? With the smoldering looks from Daryl – yes, they were kind of smoldering, but Daryl’s a man of few words and didn’t say anything to him – and the glowering frowns that Adam aimed at Daryl. 

“Why do Suzie and Daryl have weapons?” Tommy asks in a voice so low that it’s almost inaudible. The loft is open to the house and he doesn’t want to be overheard or to disturb the sleep of the three below. He knows that at least one of them is asleep, because Daryl is sawing logs down there.

“Weapons? Those are fakes,” Adam answers just as quietly. “They’re cosplayers.” Next Adam has to explain what that is.

“Why do you have this nice house and they live in tents?”

“My parents built this house.”

“They were Alphas?”

“Mom was.”

“Why doesn’t Neil live here?”

“Why would I want that?”

“He’s your brother?”

“Neil and I would kill each other if we lived together. And how’d you know we’re brothers?”

“Aren’t you?”

“But how’d you know?”

“Just knew somehow.”

Adam taps Tommy’s nose. “You’re something, sweetie.”

Tommy doesn’t know how to respond to that. In the silence, Daryl’s snores echo around the open space. Tommy giggles and tries to stop. Adam has to put a hand over his mouth.

“And they wonder why I prefer to live alone,” Adam sighs.


	4. Chapter 4

The troupe sets off in the misty morning, having disrobed first in the cabin. Adam in wolf form nudges the doorstop away and the door closes. He noses at Tommy, as though to say _lead the way_.

They start at the Rave glade, and from there Tommy sniffs out his old hiding places. Adam sniffs the area, too, and gives a wolfy grin, all big teeth. From there Tommy traces his steps back, back, back – deeper into the forest, then to the meadow where he and Adam first met; the place where he thought his number was up for sure, until the black and silver wolf turned out to like Tommy.

They travel league after league, until the sun is falling low in the sky, orange and purple. The trail is going cold, but even so long after, Tommy still recognizes certain areas and tree shapes and smells. The going is slower. Sometimes he stops and sits in the middle of a clearing to think. Adam and the other wolves give him space. Then it comes back to him, and he moves forward again self-assuredly.

The sun is nearly gone when he finds the old campsite. It’s covered with leaves and detritus, but underneath is his family’s large tent, plates, pots, and scattered clothing, all moldering and ruined.

Tommy sits in the midst of the campsite and raises his muzzle and howls. The wolves circle him and join in, their voices blending into an eerie wail of despair. When the howls finally fade, one voice at a time, Adam goes to Tommy and rubs against him comfortingly. The other three approach and nuzzle him, too, watching Adam to make certain that it’s permitted.

Night has fallen but that doesn’t stop the wolves or the fox. From there they travel the path that Tommy and his family had hiked that fateful morning. They find the gloomy, naked clearing, the stumps now overgrown with moss and wildflowers springing up everywhere. The scene might be pretty if it had occurred naturally over hundreds of years. Now? It still looks like a blight on the land, a hole slashed into the heart of the forest.

The wolves wander around the man-made clearing, investigating the evidence. Daryl finds the rutted road where heavy trucks crashed through the trees. That doesn’t interest Tommy, though: he has found something so much worse, a nearly imperceptible mound on the edge of the clearing, nearly hidden in undergrowth. He paws at it until he sees a few sad little bones scattered along the top. He whines mournfully. He lies down on top of the mound, his muzzle on his paws, whimpering softly.

Only Adam notices. Adam trots across the clearing, skirting the tree stumps, to be near Tommy. He snarls softly at the sight of the mound and the bones; he hovers over Tommy and grooms him gently.

Tommy doesn’t know what to do. Inside he’s howling ceaselessly. He should have protected his little sister. He wants them back. He wants them _back_. He wishes, too, that he had stayed with them and joined them in their fate. Then he would be with them. 

Adam’s broad tongue smoothing the fur on his shoulders isn’t really helping. Adam wants to help, and Tommy appreciates having friends now, but he wants his _family_.

He rises slowly, like an old arthritic fox, shrugs off Adam, and slinks into the woods. He doesn’t know what he’s looking for, not really – a cliff or whitewater rapids or maybe a bear trap hidden under leaves.

But then… in a repeat of the first time he met Adam, the wolf circles in front of him, blocking his path. Snarling. Pushing at him.

Stubbornly, Tommy tries to dart around Adam, or between his long legs.

Adam’s not having that. Adam snarls again, teeth bared. _I won’t let you go_ is what he’s saying.

He sits right down on Tommy, smooshing him into the bed of fusty pine needles on the ground. No amount of whining by Tommy will make him let up. He’s not really sitting on Tommy; it’s just, Tommy can’t get away. He stops struggling. Eventually Adam rolls away, barely enough so that Tommy is out in the open again, not breathing in wolf fur. Adam curls up around him comfortingly. Tommy whimpers, and Adam acknowledges his pain with a firm lick against his neck.

 _You were a child_ , Adam is telling him. _It wasn’t your fault._

The other three wolves find them eventually. They commiserate with Tommy and then take instructions from Adam, and slide into the surrounding blackness again.

Tommy is fretful all night, dozing lightly if at all. A few animals pass by in the dark, wondering at the wolf and fox. Adam chases none of them, limiting himself to a soft growl to keep them at bay.

In the morning the other three have returned, sitting in a semicircle facing Adam, paws out, panting hard. The wolves are communicating somehow; Tommy doesn’t understand the specifics but he feels the emotions. They have something to show. After Adam and Tommy have taken care of business, marking their path and drinking from a small stream, they canter after the others, through the clearing and down the side of a mountain, past many other clearings studded with tree stumps, as though something had punched a line of holes in the landscape – until they hear the sounds of machinery. 

Carefully now, they follow Adam as he stealthily skirts the logging camp, where dozens of men are using cranes to load huge tree boles onto trucks. Through the long grasses, the wolves and the fox slip and slide until they are right up against the walls of a building. 

Tommy freezes and emits a tiny growl, not loud enough for the men to hear, but Adam does. Adam stares at him long and hard. He looks up, where Tommy is looking, where a big man with a gun is standing, drinking coffee.

Adam understands. This is _the man_.

* * *

The way back is much shorter than the way they came. They don’t retrace their footsteps. Suzie has the best sense of direction and she realizes how close the logging has come to their Rave glade – within a dozen miles. They pass swiftly through the glade and onwards to the cabin. As soon as they’re inside – human again – Daryl calls dibs on the shower.

“How often do I get a real one?” he leers at Adam, his bare backside disappearing into the waterfall room.

Tommy has already slipped the tunic over his head, that being the fastest thing he can throw on. Adam has donned sweats and he starts to whip up a huge breakfast. Everyone is starving, as there had been no time for hunting up meals on their quest. While he does that, Suzie has Adam’s satellite phone in hand, connecting to the closest ranger station. 

“Be careful!” she hollers into the phone. “They have guns! They murdered innocent people already! Guns! Murder! Are you listening? You could be dead if you’re not careful! Okay, I’ll stop yelling now!”

Adam raises his eyebrows at the others. Yeah, she’s loud, she’s fierce. She’s _right_.

She slams the phone on the table.

“Hey, that thing is my only link to the outside world,” Adam says, flipping a flapjack neatly.

“It’ll live. Hey, they’re gonna send someone to check it out. I gave GPS coordinates. Even the park rangers can’t fuck that up, right?”

“Hope they take your advice and get county sheriffs for backup,” Neil says. “Those assholes are going to free themselves sooner or later.”

“I’m planning to check it out later,” Suzie says. “As a member of the local fauna, capeesh?”

“I’ll join you,” Neil offers. “Adam and Tommy should stay away, though.” He gives Adam a stern glance. “You already did plenty.”

Adam looks vaguely chastened. Only vaguely.

The meal is a subdued celebration. Daryl doesn’t use up all the hot water, so they cycle into the shower one by one and get dressed and sit down to eat. 

The day is spent quietly, reading, talking. Adam tries to straighten up after the three guests, folding the bedding and putting their belongings in a large basket. Tommy turns into a fox and messes it all up again.

For a few hours, the three warrior wolves leave; when they return, they are grimly satisfied.

Everyone beds down early, the warrior wolves in the big room downstairs as before. Daylight or not, they’re exhausted.

Passing Tommy on the way to the bathroom, Daryl leans over and says, “Don’t make it too easy for him.”

Tommy has _no_ idea what Daryl is talking about. He’s a bit afraid of Daryl, though, so he doesn’t argue, just nods and keeps moving.

Tommy figures that he’s welcome in the big bed from now on, even as a human, so he climbs the stairs diffidently and sneaks into its warmth. Adam brings his laptop computer along. 

“Wifi hotspot,” he says, smiling tiredly. “Goddess bless that sat-phone. I searched for news stories from years back,” he tells Tommy. “When you and your family went missing, it did get reported. Nothing was ever found other than a Toyota Corolla parked at a trail head.” He turns the laptop screen to show Tommy a story from a big-city newspaper. “In the end the authorities decided that you had all met with an accident and not survived.”

Tommy shudders. Adam flips the laptop closed and sets it aside. He snuggles deep into the covers and pulls Tommy’s head against his shoulder, drawing the comforter higher.

Adam kisses the top of Tommy’s head. “You were fifteen and Lisa was only twelve. That was over three years ago. Tommy, I’m so sorry. So sorry.”

Tommy sniffles a little.

“I have to ask. The authorities didn’t find any next-of-kin. Do you have relatives somewhere?”

“In the Old Country,” Tommy says quietly. “My parents emigrated from there before Lisa and I were even born. I’ve never met them.”

“You know what this means?”

“No.” Tommy’s kind of afraid to know what it means.

“You’re off the grid now. You can do or be anything you want. A new life.”

Tommy thinks hard. He can hear – feel – Adam’s heart beating against his ear. There’s something a little wild about Adam even when he’s human. It’s a wildness that would never hurt Tommy.

“You don’t have to decide anything now, sweetheart,” Adam murmurs. 

* * *

It doesn’t completely hit Tommy until the Rave that night. Information from the outside world is that the bad men were found, routed out, handcuffed, and dragged off to a dungeon somewhere. The graves were found, not to mention the corpse that appeared to have been torn apart by a wild animal. Neil reports with grim satisfaction that it’s going to be a _cause celebre_ in the world of environmentalism. He’s already looking forward to attending the trial.

Tommy lets out a breath. That part of his life is over, dealt with. Put to rest. _Requiescat in pace._

He turns his head to find Adam, who’s never looked so beautiful, his hair sparkling in the moonlight, the Zodiac dancing on his skin, his eyes gleaming and smile enticing. He catches Tommy up in his arms.

“Baby, what’s wrong? Aren’t you happy?”

Tommy smiles forlornly.

Adam kisses his forehead and then squeezes the life out of him, practically. “I know, baby, I know. Wherever they are, they know that you’re safe and grown up and they want you to be happy.”

No doubt of it, Tommy realizes that. The pain is so raw again right now. It will take time. What he doesn’t know now is…

“I don’t know what to do,” he blurts out. “My house is probably gone to someone else now. I don’t know where I’m supposed to go.”

“You come with me,” Adam says firmly.

“But – Adam, you said you like living alone.” Tommy tilts his face up.

Adam grins. “Don’t believe everything you hear.”

“I shouldn’t?”

“No.”

“Oh.”

“Oh yeah.”

“You mean…?” Tommy kind of can’t believe it. He’s never really thought about finding someone. He always figured he’d have to find another werefox somewhere. In his old life, he knew he liked boys, but he never tried to find a boyfriend because his parents were too busy looking for werefoxes for him and his sister. Who else would have understood them and their weird ways?

“You think?” Adam asks, pure joy spilling from his voice. “I think it would be perfect. You’re all I think about anymore.”

Tommy is floored. Here’s Adam, beautiful, strong, charming, lovable Alpha Adam, and he appears to be revealing a penchant for _Tommy_ , over all the amazing werewolves and humans in this forest. 

It’s too much.

Tommy slips out of the Adam’s embrace. A frown line appears between Adam’s eyebrows.

“It’s not that easy,” Tommy says, clenching his hands. What Daryl said suddenly makes total sense.

Adam looks hurt. “It’s not?”

Tommy shakes his head vigorously. “You can’t just have me.”

Adam is flummoxed. “I can’t?”

Tommy waits another moment, and then says, “You have to catch me first.”

“Catch you – wha?” 

The look on Adam’s face is hilarious. Tommy’s having trouble holding in a giggle.

“Catch me. Think you can do that, wolf?”

Adam’s brain still hasn’t caught up. Tommy takes a head start, feinting left and running as fast as he can through the glade and into the trees.

Well, he doesn’t have to wait long before he hears Adam stomping through the underbrush. He’s tempted to turn into a fox, but that would foil what he’s hoping for.

Adam catches him, of course. “I caught you, little fox!” he crows, bringing them both to the ground, hovering over Tommy, pinning him down with his own hands and knees.

“Now what?” challenges Tommy. 

“Do I get a prize for catching you?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?” Now Adam’s indignant. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

And with that, he leans over to press his lips against Tommy’s.

Although not before Tommy rolls over and frees himself and jumps up and runs away again, laughing like a lunatic. “Ha ha, the fox is wilier than the wolf!”

He makes for the Rave glade and barrels right into the middle of the dancing crowd. He’s dancing with them and laughing, getting hugs and high fives. Then the bodies part and Tommy goes still because there’s Adam, looking fierce and sweet.

“Nice try, fox.”

Tommy stands his ground as the revelers around him catcall and whistle.

Adam stalks up to him, right in his space, going for that interrupted kiss once again. His hands land on Tommy’s slender hips. Tommy clutches at the front of Adam’s shirt with both hands. There’s no more than a sliver of silver moonlight separating their lips.

“Oh my fucking gawd!” yells Neil.

Ruining what was going to be a Very Good Moment.

“Hey, guys, our Alpha found a mate!” Neil hollers, even louder.

Adam flips Neil the bird, then puts his hand right back where it was.

“Except how does that even work?” Neil continues, digging himself deeper. “The fox is really tiny –“

“None of your business, little brother!” Adam yells back good-naturedly. He turns to Tommy. “He doesn’t have two brain cells to rub together.”

Tommy smiles shyly. “Am I yours now?” he asks quietly.

“No, baby, I’m _yours_.” 

Adam’s lips are every bit as soft and luscious as they look.

* * *

On a hot September morning, two park rangers stand on the face of the desert, arms akimbo, scoping out the detritus and SUV tracks from Burning Man. 

“Pretty clean,” says one.

“Considering,” says the other.

The first one crouches to inspect something in the scrabbly sand. “Look at this.”

The other comes over, eyes shaded from the bright sun by a wide-brimmed hat. “Wolf tracks. Grey wolves.”

“Really? The desert isn’t their habitat.”

“True, but see that? The tracks are going around the edge of the encampment in a semicircle, counterclockwise. I’d say dozens of them, even. Definitely grey wolves. A whole pack.”

The other’s eyes grow wide. “Wolves are running around this place while the loonies were doing their thing? Just two nights ago? And no one noticed?”

“The tracks are pretty fresh.” The ranger kneels on the desert floor. “But this –“ running a hand over another part “– this is something smaller.”

“Baby wolf?”

“Nope. Fox. Red fox.” 

They get up and follow the tracks.

“That’s strange.”

“What is?”

“The fox seems to be running _with_ the wolves, not away from them.”

“You’re the expert, but I thought wolves and foxes don’t mix.”

“A wolf would normally kill a fox that crossed its path.”

They stand and dust off the knees of their khakis. They follow the tracks with their eyes: wolf prints loping widdershins around the outskirts of Black Rock City. 

“Crazy as it sounds, I’d bet anything that fox is part of the wolf pack.”

“Huh.” The ranger adjusts her hat. “Fancy that.”

 

THE END


End file.
